


And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife

by TeaRoses



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, poem-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaRoses/pseuds/TeaRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Integra finds a letter with interesting contents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Tear Our Pleasures With Rough Strife

Master Integra,

Are you surprised to find this letter in your huge stack of paperwork? If I know how your mind works, which I most certainly do, you will find this about halfway through my current mission to Europe. You have of course already checked the signature and cannot reign in your curiosity about the contents.

And yes, certainly I can still remember to write in fluent English, you know better than that. I have simply never been called upon to write to you, until now. As you know, I had quite the correspondence with your ancestors. But for reasons which I should hope are obvious I never addressed them on this topic: the fact that my complete failure to seduce the current head of Hellsing is driving me to a desperate rage.

_Had we but world enough, and time,  
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.  
We would sit down and think which way  
To walk, and pass our long love's day._

I of course have no love in me, but all the time and desire in the universe. And were you to accept my constant offer of immortality, I would be more inclined to allow you to tarry in deciding to accept me. But you simply will not agree; the horror of becoming your ancient enemy is too great. I have yet to convince myself that you are immovable on this, but I certainly cannot accept that you will never succumb to my considerable sensual charms. Do not play innocent with me, dear Master, we understand each other after all these years.

_Thou by the Indian Ganges' side  
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide  
Of Humber would complain. I would  
Love you ten years before the Flood,  
And you should, if you please, refuse  
Till the conversion of the Jews._

Even a human poet could understand this lure of having eternity. But though you refuse it I shall yet have you. Do you understand? We both know that as you scold me in your office I am thinking only of what the expression on your face would be if I pushed you up against the wall and began to remove those hideous clothes. I might see real shock, such as even those who have physically attacked you never saw. Do not tell me that I shall never be certain.

Do you ever picture it, Integra? My hands caressing you as they have only done in my imagination, and I strongly suspect in yours? I know what would please you though I have never been able to practice that knowledge. I can create those sensations you have long denied to yourself. I would not have to shadow you as I admittedly do to know that you have never let any person touch you. I am sure you tell yourself you do not want or need it. I am sure you are lying.

_My vegetable love should grow  
Vaster than empires, and more slow;  
An hundred years should go to praise  
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;  
Two hundred to adore each breast,  
But thirty thousand to the rest;  
An age at least to every part_

You have never been a silly woman, and would not expect such treatment from me. Yet if I had time, even less time than I am asking, I assure you I could manage true seductiveness and sensuality. Picture it indeed, Integra. My tongue tasting your sweet mouth, my hands on those now well-hidden breasts.

I can just see you now, reaching for your lighter to set fire to this little missive. And you are so very angry at my presumption. But though you may belong to no person you know your unrevealed heart and form are mine.

Keep thinking, Sir Integra, of my hands tearing at that suit and the feel of my gloves against your bare skin. Keep thinking of all those years you have spent and will spend essentially alone, with your desires bound better than I was in the dungeon.

I touch every part of you now, claiming you. Feel my mouth descending to your breasts, my hands running up your thighs. You are beginning to tremble a bit, just holding this letter in your hand, but you cannot put it down, because you know you need to hear the rest.

_And the last age should show your heart.  
For, Lady, you deserve this state,  
Nor would I love at lower rate._

But at my back I always hear  
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;  
And yonder all before us lie  
Deserts of vast eternity.

You indeed do deserve better than a long-dead monster can give you. And perhaps I deserve better than to have my endless unlife without your companionship. But if we cannot get what we deserve, should we not settle for what we can have?

I assure you what is possible could be quite glorious in its own dark and desperate way. Hold the thought, the thought of my arms clasping you strongly against me, the thought of finally letting go, only for me.

As I would see what you have revealed to no one else, you would see and feel me. Be the one to feel my gloveless hands as they travel over you, gripping your waist and clutching at your back, finally reaching and stroking your intimate places. Do you feel uncomfortably naked now, Integra? I hope so.

_Thy beauty shall no more be found,  
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound  
My echoing song: then worms shall try  
That long preserved virginity,_

Yes, someday my dear you will be buried along with all the other Hellsings. I will certainly kill all your enemies bus but I cannot destroy time, old age, or whatever those horrible cigars have done to you. When you are colder than I and in the family crypt it will be too late for whatever we would call this twisted emotion and need between us.

And while you may be indeed determined to take your virginity to the predations of the grave, I am equally determined that your maidenhead will be mine. I could make you desire the pain of the taking itself, though you will never admit such a thing.

_And your quaint honor turn to dust,  
And into ashes all my lust:  
The grave's a fine and private place,  
But none, I think, do there embrace._

Allow me, who has risen from his own grave, to testify that it is indeed free from physical comfort. And while my personal lust may never die, neither will it find a better object even when the Hellsing honor is a faded memory.

My cold hands stroke you still, waiting for that intake of breath to indicate that you are finally acknowledging your own lusts and seeking their fulfillment. You can pretend all you like but you cannot stop your own body from becoming wet for me, your own blood from rushing between your legs to welcome my touch.

_Now therefore, while the youthful hue  
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,  
And while thy willing soul transpires  
At every pore with instant fires,_

Your beauty will no doubt last into your old age in its own way; I cannot imagine that it will ever in your life be fully destroyed. But even you will someday no longer be young and physically stunning. You think now that you do not care for any such ridiculous externals but someday, when it is too late, you may.

Do not dream of what might have been in your inevitable decline. Do not look at old pictures and wonder. Glory in your youth and give yourself to me.

My tongue is on you now, waiting to entangle and confuse. I could never expect you to beg, you who have never begged for your own life or even the lives of your men. But I could make you scream in your mind from frustration. Do you want me to? But I will be merciful only for you, and put my tongue inside you to satisfy you.

I know what you are doing now. You are telling yourself to tear this paper up, while you clench your inner muscles at the idea of my intimacies. Read on, and then later pretend you did not if you must, if you can.

_Now let us sport us while we may,  
And now, like amorous birds of prey,  
Rather at once our time devour  
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.  
Let us roll all our strength and all  
Our sweetness up into one ball,_

Yes, let us take time as I will take you, finally thrusting into you while whispering in your ear that I alone can push you to release. You will move against me, you will cry out, you will clutch at me and push me further in. I can make this last a very long time, my dear Sir Hellsing. You will be wondering just how much urgent pleasure you can bear before we finally give in to mutual satisfaction.

I am what you want whether you acknowledge that or not, and in a few days I will be back and ready to give and to take. Not only willing, but in fact demanding. I am a master of self-control even as you are but you have been driving me to the edge for years. I will make this a reality if I have to destroy the Hellsing institution to do it, so delay me no further. You are not unwilling, I do not have to read your mind to know that. We know what will happen and I am saying it will happen sooner than you think.

_And tear our pleasures with rough strife  
Through the iron gates of life;  
Thus, though we cannot make our sun  
Stand still, yet we will make him run_

You will touch yourself tonight, Integra Hellsing, and you will pretend your hands are mine, wishing you could do to yourself what my long fingers could do to you. You will rub at your own skin and imagine, but even if you bring yourself to climax it will be the barest shadow of what you could experience with me. Spend your nights until my return torturing yourself with unfulfilled desire.

I am finished now, you are ready to throw this into the fire and stir the ashes, trying to forget the picture of us together. You never can. You are my master yet, and need not even ask me to fulfill your wishes. Think of the possibilities and wait for me.

Signed,

Your most humble and obedient servant,

The Vampire Alucard


End file.
